


Brighter than the shooting star

by ratsauce



Category: Harry Styles (Musician), Louis Tomlinson (Musician), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Awkward Harry Styles, Clubbing, Liam Payne (mentioned) - Freeform, M/M, Meet-Cute, Motorcycles, Prompt Fill, White Sweater, Zayn and Niall if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-22 21:43:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17670662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratsauce/pseuds/ratsauce
Summary: "Uh," the boy finally says, "that's my bike?"Harry's eyes widen and he feels his face light up in embarrassment. He wants the ground to open up and swallow him, oh my God-





	Brighter than the shooting star

**Author's Note:**

> Song title from [Shooting Star](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K7KMRBoqQUg) by Owl City.  
> Prompt from [ Bre's page](https://www.instagram.com/p/BtKDfHjgdmz/)  
> PLEASE NOTE:  
> There's no more of this! I just wanted to write it for a friend and I wrote exactly what the prompt called for! There ain't gonna be no more!

Harry uses his shoulder to force the heavy steel door open, huffing through his nose when a bright light shines directly in his face. He squints against the harshness of it, bringing a hand up to shield his face as he allows the door to slam shut behind him. It's inhuman for anyone to have lights this bright, he thinks. It's about three in the bloody morning and these lights rival the brightest fucking daylight.  
  
Once Harry's eyes adjust enough that he can actually see, Harry takes a look at his surroundings. It's an actual parking lot, not a dingy alleyway like he was expecting when he'd bust through the emergency exit door. There are rows of cars on every side, a few other people either getting in their own car or coming out of them. Harry would assume that that's why there are million kilowatt stadium bulbs in the huge overhead lights- to ward of criminals.  
  
As much as Harry's eyes are still throbbing with just how buggering bright it is, he'd still rather be out here than inside that fucking club.  
  
The club- Harry doesn't even remember the name of it, but it's horrid. It's all multi-coloured strobe lights and preppy techno-pop music, and the combination started to make Harry so dizzy that he'd had to step outside. Nothing, not even this bright ass light, is as bad as the club. He almost wants to warn off the people making their way to the entrance on the other side of the building, but he seems to be the only one that has a problem with the scene.  
  
The music was so loud and deafening that Liam hadn't even heard him when Harry'd told him he was going outside. Liam's lack of response could have also had to do with the fact that his tongue was down some tattooed lad's throat.  
  
Harry shudders to himself at the memory. Liam and the bloke had been essentially fucking in the middle of the dance floor, Liam's arse pressed tight against the other man's pelvis. Harry and Liam had gone out _together_ , for fuck's sake. Liam had all but dragged him out of his flat because Harry _needed to pull_ , apparently, and Liam was supposed to help him, and yet all Harry's gotten is a close up view of Liam getting dry humped.  
  
Harry makes a mental note to throttle him tomorrow. Or later, seeing as it's after midnight.  
  
Harry rubs his hands together and exhales. In just a beige T-shirt and black skinnies, Harry's feeling just a bit nippy out here. He was perfectly fine inside where the air was heavy, almost sticky with humidity and everyone had been grinding in a desperate mess of arms and legs. As much as Harry hates to admit it, but he misses being apart of that. He misses having someone to dance on, and touch, and kiss, and fuck. It's been too long since he's had any of that. He barely even remembers how to pull. A year ago, a scene like tonight's would have Harry thriving, boys and girls throwing themselves on him left and right. He'd have at least ten numbers in the hour he'd managed to stay inside. Presently, he just gets annoyed by the amount of people bouncing into him and spilling drinks all over the boots he'd spent an entire paycheck on.  
  
Harry lets out an annoyed huff and brings a hand up to card his fingers through his hair. He's getting colder the longer he stands out here, gooseflesh rising on his arms. He'd driven them, luckily, so he decides to find his car so he can sit in it and wait for Liam. As he takes off in search of his car, he briefly considers just leaving Liam and going back to the flat, seeing as though his slag of a best friend will most likely go home with that tatted guy.  
  
But Harry's not a twat and he'd hate himself if Liam got kidnapped or hurt because he wasn't around to take him home.  
  
He spots his car and makes an abrupt turn towards it, narrowly missing a row of bikes to his left in his haste. He's reaching for his keys in his back pocket when he picks up a sound to his left that makes his hackles rise. He whips his head around to look, visibly deflating when he sees that it's just two boys coming from around the front of the building. Completely non-threatening, possibly tipsy with the way they're falling all over each other and giggling.  
  
What prevents Harry from looking away and refocusing on getting to the car is the white knit sweater that one of them is wearing. The colour of it somehow reflects the overhead lights, giving it an almost luminescent appearance. Something that bright is bound to catch someone's attention, Harry acknowledges that, but even then he can't _stop_ looking at him.

He's gorgeous, is the thing. Even from the distance, Harry can spot a pair of electric blue eyes under a swoop of brown, feathery hair. He's short, so is the guy he's walking with, really, but he's compact and strong from what Harry can see- with thick thighs under his tight-fitting, almost obscene black trousers. He's leaning into the other man, laughing quite loudly at something he has said and slapping him in the chest in apparent indignation.

They're weaving through the parked cars and coming steadily closer to where Harry is and he- He panics, okay? Because the man is quite fucking fit and Harry hasn't seen or met anyone who has piqued his interest the way this loud little blue-eyed prince has. Harry looks around with wide eyes at his car, an old, dirty Volkswagen that is in no way cool or interesting or even mildly note-worthy. There's no fucking way fit bloke is gonna pay him any mind in that, oh, fuck-

The man looks up at Harry and their eyes meet and oh _fuck_ what is he supposed to do know that they've made eye contact? They pair of them are so much closer to him, now, almost on him. He needs to come up with something right fucking now.

He looks to his left and and spots the three bikes he almost knocked over a minute ago. The one closest to him is actually quite cool, cool enough that the beautiful man would probably notice him. So he climbs onto it, quite unsteadily seeing as though he's never even touched a motorbike before, and settles his bum on it.

Harry strikes up a whole pose too, pretending like he's about to start the bike. His pulse starts racing when the blokes come to a stop to his left, but he steels himself up and looks up at the cute one. He flashes his best smile at him, dimples popping out and everything, to which he responds by staring blankly at him.  
  
A few seconds pass where Harry tries to come up with something to say, but his brain feels like it's had a colossal system failure. The man continues staring at him wordlessly.  
  
Harry is jarred when the silence is shattered with the sudden sound of the other bloke (who Harry had almost forgot was there) laughing. It's an abrupt cackle that's in no way as pretty as the other one's melodious giggling. (Yes, melodious. A laugh he'd heard from three metres away is _melodious_.)  
  
"Uh," the boy finally says, and Harry's stomach drops at the way he starts furrowing his brows. "That's my bike?"  
  
Harry's eyes widen and he feels his face light up in embarrassment. He wants the ground to open up and swallow him, oh my God-  
  
"I'm so sorry, lemme just-" Harry stutters, struggling to get himself off the bike in one piece without making any more of a complete arse of himself. The other lad is full on chortling now, adding to the embarrassment bubbling up in Harry's chest. The cute one though, he's just fucking staring, even now, a small frown now painted on his lips.  
  
Harry wants to die.  
  
He manages to stand, backing away from the boys with his hands up. He's about to apologise again when he decides, fuck it, and turns to speed walk to his car.  
  
"Wait."  
  
And- It's not the blonde one, because he's still fucking laughing, so that must mean-  
  
Harry trips over himself in his haste to turn back around, straightening his spine in a last-ditch attempt at seeming like a sane person.  
  
The bloke's voice is soft and a bit hesitant when he asks, "What were you doing? On my bike?"  
  
Harry has to stop himself from whimpering pathetically. His voice is high but also somehow really warm, and a bit raspy. It reminds Harry of sitting by a crackling bonfire on a cold night. His accent is decidedly Northern- Harry wants to hear about where he's from, if it's near to where he's from or if it's further up.  
  
When he finally remembers that he's been asked a question, enough time has elapsed that the boy looks even more confused and worried. And that just won't do.  
  
"Oh! I was looking for my car, here-" Harry gestures loosely to where his beat up Volkswagen is parked. The boy doesn't look any less confused and Harry panics more.

"But then I saw you and you're fit as fuck and my shitty VW isn't really impressive, innit?" Harry knows he's rambling but he can't fucking stop- "So I looked around and I saw your bike- It's a cool bike, by the way. And I thought, okay, fit guy will probably notice me if I'm on a bike as cool as this one-"  
  
Harry takes a deep breath in the middle of his spiel, his cheeks aflame when he realises that the blonde lad has finally stopped laughing and is giving him this odd look which is definitely worse than being laughed at. The cute one is back to staring wordlessly, a pensive look on his face.

"So I climbed on and you know the rest." Harry trails off, visibly deflating. He honestly wants to just go in his car and leave, forget Liam, and go hide in his flat for at least a month.  
  
"Oh. Wow," Cutie says slowly, and oh God, Harry is _literally_ about to die.  
  
"Listen, I'm so, _so_ sorry. Can we both pretend this didn't even happen?" Harry starts pleading, but he swallows is tongue when the man speaks, effectively cutting him off.  
  
"You think I"m fit?" he asks and comes a step closer, and Harry swears he sees the beginning of a flush start colouring his cheeks. Harry can't do anything but nod, tongue gone heavy in his mouth. His eyes are so much bluer up close, and Harry can even see beautiful, long eyelashes casting dark shadows on the top of his sharp cheekbones. He's even prettier now that Harry can see him properly and his chest hurts.  
  
None of them say anything for a while, the silence stretching on just long enough for the whole situation to somehow become more uncomfortable. Harry doesn't even know why he'd stopped in the first place, he should have just buggering left-

Harry flinches at the sudden sound of Cutie starting to laugh. It's an unanticipated, tinkling thing, and Harry's eyebrows shoot up at it. Cutie's whole face crinkles up with it, and he bends over a bit, one hand on his knees and another lifted to hold his tummy.  
  
Harry just stands there while he gets the laugh out of his system. He's sort of glued to the spot, anyway, captivated by the hints of dark ink he spots on Cutie's arms where his sleeves are rolled it up to mid-forearm.

It takes a minute, but Cutie straightens up, wiping away what looks like actual tears from the corner of his eyes. He's still chuckling when he starts walking towards Harry. He forces himself to stay right where he is until Cutie stops right ahead of him. There's enough space that Harry can get away if he tries to hit him or something and he tenses, waiting for it.

"M' name's Louis." he says instead of punching him, and holds out his hand for Harry to take. Harry watches the way his sleeve rolls down before he takes the offered hand hesitantly. He makes a fleeting note that it's smaller than his own as he shakes hands with the gorgeous man.

"I don't think I wanna tell you my name after all this, if 'm being honest," Harry sighs. The bloke's palm is warm. "It's Harry."

Louis flashes a gorgeous smile: his pink lips stretched around teeth that are just touch yellow. His whole face lights up with it and Harry can't help give him a diffident smile of his own. 

"I think y're quite fit, y'self." Louis leans in to whisper in that thick Northern accent, and squeezes Harry's hand in his before he lets it go. Harry blush kicks up another few notches and he feels himself dimpling, like a fucking school boy.

"Could I have your number?" he asks, and Harry's jaw drops.

"Even though you thought I was stealing your bike?" he blurts, eyes widening when Louis starts giggling again.

"'s a shit bike, mate, honestly. You'd have been doing me a favour." he jokes, reaching into his left pocket and producing a phone. He unlocks it and holds it out to Harry for him to take, which he does with only a bit of skepticism.

He saves his number and sends a text to himself before handing the phone back. Louis' still smiling at him, the corner of his eyes crinkling up with it, and Harry's heart flutters.

"See you, Curly." Louis bites his lip, looking at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Harry gives an awkward little wave and spins on his heels, taking long strides over to his car before he can do or say anything else embarrassing.

When Harry's unlocking the driver door, Harry can just barely hear Louis' friend whisper shouting, " _What the fuck, Lou? He's a creeper!_ "

Harry doesn't get the time to be upset before Louis answers in a sure voice, "Nah. He's adorable."

Harry will have to thank Liam for slagging off tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Leave your thoughts.
> 
> As said before, I won't write any additional chapters or parts for this. It's a one-shot prompt fill. 
> 
> Here's my main [tumblr](http://dissocihate.tumblr.com/) and a list of my [other blogs](http://dissocihate.tumblr.com/others)


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